Perseverantia Vincit
by Yuuki no Yuki
Summary: "In visions of the night, like dropping rain, Descend the many memories of pain." ― Aeschylus, Agamemnon. Melanie had always said she'd be willing to march into Hades for the sake of her little sister. Of course she hadn't known that Hades was an actual place. Nor that she was a demigod. But, eh, details. After all, family is family.


**A/N:** This entire fic, from beginning to end, is a gift to a dear friend of mine (I'm a talkin' 'bout you Sanji!) Partly a Christmas gift, partly a "I've promised you this for the past five years" gift. But entirely a "you more than deserve this" gift. I've put quite a bit of thought into it, and (hopefully) plan to complete it over the course of the next five months.

Of course, it is also here for the rest of you to enjoy. So, enjoy!

\- **Yuuki**

* * *

 _"It is not death that a man should fear, but he should fear never beginning to live."_

 **~ Marcus Aurelius ~**

* * *

Melanie H. Sanders had always believed that she was destined for great things.

Not least of all because her mother used to tell her as much.

It was not that she was particularly amazing, nor that she felt this unquenchable thirst to prove herself. She didn't see herself an Atlas, destined to bear the weight of the world. And she certainly didn't feel the universe _owed her_ anything, in so much as a universe can owe _anyone_ anything.

But, privately, Melanie always thought that she must be destined for greatness, that it was the only thing that **_made sense_**. After all, how could a past like hers be anything but a back-story? An _origin_ story?

Melanie thought she was destined for greatness, because, in doing so, she could justify all of the personal tragedy she'd had to face. It was a way for her to make peace with the incomprehensible.

With the death of her step-father, when she was eight, and her mother three-years later. With the knowledge that she'd had to choose between losing her five-year old sister, Sanya, and honoring her mother's dying wish. And, now, with the death of her and Sanya's grandparents.

It seemed to Melanie that Death liked to cling to her, like a coat. Or shadowy specter that was, perhaps, jealous of those in Melanie's life. Of course, it could be argued that Death followed Sanya around more so than Melanie, as death seemed to show up with the child.

Melanie had made it eight years without losing a loved one.

Sanya had made it two.

But that seemed too cruel a thought to associate with her little sister, and so Melanie always banished it. Better to blame herself, to claim it was she who was cursed, than to foist the blame onto the innocent whom she was charged with guarding.

Still, in all her years of believing "I am destined for greatness" Melanie had never quite gotten around to imagining what "greatness" could mean.

 _"I'm a what?!"_

Or in what ways it could shape her life.

 _"A demi-god..."_

Nor had she ever stopped to ponder what 'greatness' could mean for _**Sanya.**_

 _"...you both are."_

* * *

Melanie had never truly felt like a kid.

At fifteen she felt that she had lived more than most adults.

Part of it was her character, she had always been told she had an old soul. But, by-and-large, it was her environment, the situations she was faced with, that constantly forced her to adapt.

Melanie could barely remember what life was like before her mom met, and married, Paul. Which, considering they married when she was six, made sense. But she did remember her mom coming home, exhausted after working all day, and collapsing on their couch in their one room apartment.

She did remember, learning to clean up after herself or wash the dishes, or take out the trash, all so she could be called "mommy's little helper." And she certainly remembered how proud she was when she learned how to make grilled cheese, and got to have a 'meal' waiting for her mommy when she got off of work.

(The other kids were always jealous that Melanie could walk home from school alone, and didn't have a babysitter. Melanie had always privately thought a babysitter would be great, that would mean more people to help mommy out.)

Everything had changed, however, when Paul became her dad, and Sanya joined them. Suddenly it wasn't just Melanie and her mom, the two of them against the world. Suddenly Melanie didn't have to do the dishes every night, or take out the Trash-that was _Paul's job_ -and, suddenly, Melanie got to learn why her friends all hated babysitters.

Still, the change was good, because mommy never came home tired anymore. And now, sometimes, they could all go out together (Melanie loved going to the movies the most).

But, best of all, now Melanie had a little sister to spoil.

Those two years with Paul were probably the closest Melanie ever got to just feeling like a _child._

Of course, as is the pattern with her life, she only got to enjoy it for a blimp of time. Because all too soon Paul went out on his boat, he was a fisherman, and never returned.

And it was like a bolt of lightning, shocking them all with its intensity. One second they were all together, one second _everything was right._ And the next **_everything_** was _different_ _._

And that was the day Melanie's childhood ended.

Oh, her mommy tried. She got another job, she sold Paul's stuff, she met with all of these men in suits and signed paper, after paper, _after paper._ But, it seemed that for everything her mommy accomplished their were ten more things that needed to be done.

Because her mommy was awesome they got to keep the house, _and_ Melanie got to stay in the same school. But, they had to say goodbye to the babysitter, and Melanie had to take over caring for Sanya.

Sanya was Melanie's little sister, but she might as well have been her own daughter with how much effort she'd put into raising her.

All the more so when her mother got sick three years later, and left Melanie alone.

Her grandparents tried, when Melanie and Sanya had first arrived at their home in Oklahoma they had made it a point to emphasize that "you two will get to be kids, don't you worry."

But by that point Melanie already considered herself an adult, eleven years old or not. She also considered Sanya _her_ responsibility, so, while her grandparents _had_ tried, it hadn't really made a difference.

And, four years later, when her grandparents burned down in the house-fire that claimed all their belongings, Melanie couldn't quite stop the cruel thought, that it was a good thing she hadn't allowed herself to grow too attached. She quickly banished the thought though-as she did most her dark thoughts-and instead prayed for their peace.

After all, it was thanks to their kindness that Melanie hadn't been separated from Sanya in the first place.

* * *

She had been approached during their funeral.

Melanie had been in the front, decked all in black, holding little Sanya's hand. Looking like death personified. (Her and Sanya's complexions were such that black made their eye bags appear thrice as gaunt.) Their skin "paler than the moon" and their hair matted as it was, and neither girl had a particularly approachable air about them.

In fact, rumors had already begun to spread.

Theirs was a small town, and while hospitable, and kind, it was still starved for entertainment.

Normally, the folks of Hillsdale made their dues with scandalous affairs, or high-school rivalries. Occasionally you would hear word of what so-and-so, who left who-knows-how-many years ago, had gotten up to. But for the most part it all just seemed to be a rotating wheel of s***.

In the case of Melanie and Sanya, however, things were different.

The sisters had always been shrouded in mystery, no-one really knew much about them. They just moved to town four years ago and took up with one of the wealthiest families around.

Although their grandparents had forced them to mingle with the "common folk" it was always just that, mingling.

Their were no friendships forged, no rivalries drawn in the sand. No teacher who took them under their wing, or kind librarian who opened their heart and home to the two girls.

If you were to ask any member of Hillsdale why this was so, why no-one had bothered to grow close to the orphans, they would all respond with the same, vague, "they just seemed like they would prefer to be alone."

 _Prefer to be alone_.

Such was the excuse people had been using for _**years**_ to justify their actions. Actions born, not of any misplaced sense of chivalry, but-rather-from a far more common-place.

Fear.

Men, women, children, they could not explain it, not if they tried, but they _all_ feared the Sanders kids. Feared them far too much to ever attempt to befriend them. But as this fear seemed to have no origin, no rhyme nor reason, it did nothing to soothe the guilt felt by those who knew they ought to know better.

"They prefer to be alone," however, now _that_ was the perfect platitude. The perfect excuse to heed that little voice in one's head while drowning out the voice in one's heart.

It was, if you will, the ultimate scape goat.

Or, well, _penultimate_ I suppose, as the Manor Fire gave the town's people an even better excuse to leave them be.

 _"They're cursed."_

So, it came as no real surprise to the girls that-while nearly the whole town turned up for the funeral-no one approached the two girls.

Not to offer condolences.

Or advice.

Or assistance.

No, they just came to show their face.

Which is why, perhaps, Melanie was so surprised when someone _did_ end up approaching her.

It was no-one she knew, just some teenager in a suite-they had the oddest limp-but they had clearly approached _her_ with the intent to communicate.

"Melanie Sanders?" The man-boy?-asked.

"...yes?"

"Melanie _Hellebore_ Sanders?" They insisted, and Melanie's hand tightened around Sanya's wrist. How did this boy know her middle-name? She hadn't heard her full-name since her Mothe-

"This is she." Swift. Strong. And straight to the point. No need to dwell on useless memories of the past. Not when the present was trying so hard to be interesting.

"...I need you to come with me." The boy muttered, looking shaken by her confidence. Melanie tensed when his eyes slid to Sanya.

"Both of you."

The next few minutes were a blur.

Melanie-who had been quite tired at this point-would later lay the blame on stress. Her sister, however, would claim that the stress just brought out 'the real' Melanie. The one normally hidden by common sense and pride.

Regardless, what had occurred was one thoroughly thorough tongue-lashing by one peeved recently re-orphaned, girl. By the end of which 'the boy' (whom had managed to avoid giving out his name) could barely stand when she delivered one, final;

"So _why_ should we go with **_you_**?!"

The clearing seemed to echo with silence, although how silence could echo, I haven't the faintest.

Before, from a place of courage-hitherto unknown-within the boy came the calmest of replies.

"It may save your lives."

* * *

It is quite remarkable what one could endure when it was for the sake of another. It was never outright stated, it had never needed to be, but Melanie knew how grateful Sanya was for all she did. And _Sanya_ knew, how grateful Melanie was to have a _raison d'etre._

A reason _of being._ _  
_

For, without Sanya, their was very little doubt that Melanie wouldn't have given up long ago. That she wouldn't have just curled up in a ball and let time (and life) pass her by. As, for obvious reasons, that would be a million times easier than getting up each day, and forcing herself to face the world.

That's not to say that Melanie hated her life.

She did not.

Nor that she wanted it to end.

But, rather, that she wasn't the most motivated of people, and that (without Sanya) it was unlikely that she _ever_ would have found the kind of motivation needed to continuously fight this up-hill slope of a battle.

But, Melanie _did_ have Sanya, and-as such-Melanie had the motivation to face any obstacle. To scale any mountain. If it was for her sister, Melanie would be willing to march into the depths of Hades. Hell, into the depths of Tartarus! (And, she would soon find, such a promise was not outside the realm of possibility.)

So, yes, Melanie could endure quite a lot for the sake of her sister. Which is why, perhaps, she didn't even think to question the boy's words.

"It may save your lives." He had said. And that had been good enough for her.

Although, in her defense, she had faced so much death in her life-was so convinced that death was following her-that the confirmation was more, or less, lip-service.

Melanie wasn't stupid. Her step-father died on a "boating accident" (despite being a consummate sailor), her mother died of "disease" (despite being fit as a fiddle). And, now, her grandparents died in a "house fire" (despite them living _next door_ to the fire house.)

Melanie wasn't stupid.

Something was clearly after them.

Of course, such fears were never outright stated. Like I said, Melanie wasn't stupid. She knew that _saying_ anything would get her labeled paranoid, at best, and separated from Sanya-at worst.

So, yes, Melanie believed the boy.

And Melanie followed the boy.

And, in doing so, Melanie set the "great things" she was destined for into motion.

And Sanya tagged along. As Sanya was wont to do.

May the gods have mercy on their souls.

* * *

 **A/N:** Tada! Such is the prolog of _Pereverantia Vincit_ , hope you enjoyed it! And that it made sense. I promise it is most certainly going somewhere, lol. Thanks to all who read! Please (if you are so inclined) take a moment to alert/favourite/review.

Thank you again, and Merry Christmas! :)


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